


Leaky Roof to Leaky Roof (To Home)

by 20Zvorak17



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Bad trick which could be triggery, Bobby Adopts Buck, But not until after some bad stuff, First it's gonna hurt, M/M, Other, Sex Work, Underage sex worker Buck, but then it gets better, mentions of domestic violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-26 23:20:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30113574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20Zvorak17/pseuds/20Zvorak17
Summary: The 118 is family in any universe. It doesn't matter how they meet or who they are when it happens.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a line break before the prostitution scene and you can skip it without missing anything if it's better for your mental health or your preferences to do so.

Maddie's been gone three years when Buck decides that if his parents don't see him, there's no reason to stick around. He's not heard from Maddie in years and, given the pattern, his parents may actually care about him if he runs away.

Or at least, no one will miss him.

He takes the squirrel fund from the empty Cheerios box on top of the fridge, his important documents, three changes of clothing and his water purifying straw.

At first, he hitch hikes with truck drivers. Most of them are nice and genuine and worried about him. One gets angry when he demands payment and Buck gives him cash. After that, he lets people assume what they will from his black eye and wears it proudly.

Sex work is work, but he's not doing blow jobs for free rides.

But then the money runs out, careful though he is, and it turns out nobody wants to hire a fourteen year old kid in LA full time for anything--not even a restaurant.

So he's tired and hungry and the pier is--it's just so goddamn cold at night and stupidly wet. This BMW pulls up and a hand holds three hundred dollars out the window to him--to him. His for the taking. All he has to do--

"Get in." Says a deep, authoritative voice. "Dinner and a room on me."

He hesitates and the breeze off the ocean, arctic in the winter, picks up. He shivers. He gets in.

His stomach is churning and he sort of wants to cry, but it's warm and dry and he takes Buck to a diner and buys him a coffee and _two burgers._

And, well, it's just sex. Right?

He's hooked up with plenty of seniors, both genders.

* * *

Smooth, metal rings hurt where they press into his shoulders as he drops to his knees. He's done this _before,_ he reminds himself as cruel fingers pull too hard at his curls. He's _done this before_ , he reminds himself as his eyes tear up with pain. He's done this before and _he'd liked it._ But it's not the same, he realizes and digs his nails into his palms and thinks about the ocean and waits for it to be over and tells himself that tomorrow this'll be nothing but another bad memory.

The click of the door as what's his name leaves is like music.

* * *

He doesn't expect waking up alone to find three hundred dollars on the dresser to feel so bad, but--

But he's dry and warm and full. He can have breakfast and a room tonight and it's not...it's not _nothing_.

So what if he sobs for three hours? For the first time in a month he'd slept in a bed. Who cares how he feels?

* * *

When he's fifteen, he gets a boyfriend. He doesn't even like the guy, not really, but it's a roof. He cooks, he cleans, he gives a handjob when none of the coked out disasters Brandt deals to end up trading sex for their drugs. On the street, he'd always insisted on condoms and it carries over. Brandt has no objections, "Who knows what kind of diseases you have?" and he means sex workers, but it's fine by Buck.

Brandt is twenty three and garbage and sometimes a little liberal with his fists. But he's in and out of jail all the time and Buck gets the place to himself for weeks at a time. It's not such a bad deal but then-then some CI who'd witnessed one of Brandt's more vicious backhands gets it in his head that he's doing Buck a favor. They charge him with Rape 3 and racketeering and they seize the apartment and Buck has to go.

Business at the pier, though, never changes and that's where he meets Eva. Eva doesn't wear her misery like Buck does. He wears it in thin smiles, slumped shoulders, tense hands and eyes that are frantic, always.

Eva wears it in track marks. Eva's got this ex and from how she talks about the woman, Hen Wilson must've hung the damn moon. She checks on Eva and makes sure she has food and clean needles. But then one day, this 'Hen' and Eva have a conversation that he catches only snatches of. Things like "Runaway" and "Illegal" and "My roommate". Hen wins and he finds himself on the run from DSS. At least on the pier, if an adult wants to have sex with him they have to pay for the privilege, and if they want to knock him around they have to pay double. Foster care doesn't come with the same guarantees. And anyway, he's sixteen now--two years down and two to go.

But then.

His whole life changes with one bad trick.

* * *

Everything hurts. that's what he notices when he first comes conscious. Mostly it's bruises, but if the look of it is any indication, his wrist is broken. One eye is swollen shut and football--the one season he played--has more than taught him how a concussion feels. No doubt about it-he needs an ambulance.

He recognizes the medic--she's the whole reason he _went_ with Old Lincoln despite many warnings. Old Lincoln pays triple every time, plus a tip when he gets out of control, and now, down a roommate, Buck had needed the cash.

"Let me help you," she says, kneeling next to him even as he tries to move away.

"I've had about all the help from you I can survive," he says tiredly, "now that I don't have a roommate to go half on rent with, I have to earn double. Old Lincoln is generous with cash, especially if you're willing to earn it."

"By taking a beating?" Questions the other medic.

Buck knows better than to shrug, "Whatever pays the rent, man."

Their captain intervenes. "I think you're smart enough to realize you have to go to the hospital. Then-here's my offer. You can stay with me while you're--while you heal." He's choosing his words carefully, Buck can tell. "The door to the guest bedroom locks, and I'll give you a baseball bat with permission to use it if I make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe."

And a broken wrist isn't gonna pay the rent so--

"Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

As good as his word, Bobby hands him a slugger the second the pull into the garage. It's sitting next to a few dusty mitts and, oddly, two children's bikes. Buck grips the smooth wood of the bat as he looks around the rest of the garage. Tools, shovels, a deep freezer--everything normal except the shrine. Nevertheless, Bobby's done Buck the kindness of acceptance without prying and the least he can do is return the favor. For the first few days, he's like a ghost around the house. On day four, Bobby requests that he help with dinner and clean up. "We're both eating," he says, "so we should also both do the cooking and the dishes."

After the first week, Buck stops locking his door at night. 

School is a point of contention--that is, Bobby's trying to convince him to go back and he's desperately trying to convince himself that this arrangement isn't permanent. When Bobby inevitably gets sick of the teenager eating his food and taking up space and costing money, it won't hurt so Bad if Buck never allowed himself to consider it home. Still, Bobby's not overtly pushy about it and Buck never quite feels the need to be defensive-at first. 

Bobby gets comfortable with their situation before Buck does, and his failure to realize this is his mistake.

"You have to go back to school, Buck. You're living in the past!"

" _I'm_ living in the past? _Me?_ You've got bikes in your garage with several years of dust on them!" There's an angry, hurt-filled silence as neither of them speaks and then Buck rushes out the door before Bobby can recover enough to stop him. He sleeps on the beach that night.

Years later, Bobby will tell him how he woke the whole 118 and they all searched for him for hours before deciding they couldn't risk alerting the police. How he'd cried thinking about what Buck might have been doing, afraid it would be his fault for pushing.

Buck may never have gone back except he sees Eva again. Her eyes are sunken and she looks bad and he knows, in that moment, he _knows_ that if he holds on to his misery, eventually he'll wear it the way that Eva does--in hollow cheeks and limp hair and track marks--and he doesn't, he doesn't even _have to be here_ because Bobby had been trying to convince him to stay as long as he needed, as long as he _wanted._ Buck let his fear of never being loved drive him out of a home where he always had enough to eat and a bed, instead of knowing he'd be loved one day and that it wasn't his fault his parents couldn't give him that. He let fear of being hungry and cold trap him in a relationship with a drug dealer. He let fear of losing his security drive him to extremes he'd never thought he'd see.

He cannot let his fear of someone actually giving a damn for the first time since Maddie moved away control him now. On the street, fear serves you, but it's not doing him any favors now.

Buck goes back--he goes home.

* * *

When Buck comes in through the front door, he tries to be quiet. He's bad at confrontation and he doesn't know what Bobby will do--maybe he'll kick him out after all. The door falls shut, though, because when he sees the stack of missing posters it slips from his grip. He doesn't hear it, entranced by the fliers he's reaching for, but Bobby must. Buck feels it like a kick in the guy when Bobby appears in the doorway. He clearly hadn't slept, or showered. He marches towards Buck and this time spent here--not quite a month--has been great, actually, and Buck will take whatever punishment--

Bobby draws him into a tight hug. "I was worried about you." He says and the light tone is belied by the way his voice cracks on it.

"Good news! Nobody matching his description at the morgues!" Chimney enthused, somewhat falsely, coming in.

"Chimney," the both acknowledge the newcomer.

" _Buck._ " It punches out of Chimney's chest with relief when he sees him. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"Thanks."

He gets off pretty light with punishment. He's dragged everywhere with Bobby, even to the firehouse, except for one Monday. On that day, Bobby makes him at least sit for a placement test, perhaps suspecting that Buck is worried about being behind. Missing two years will do that to you. To nobody's surprise, except Buck's, he understand the concepts well enough. The school thinks he probably needs a math tutor, but not for long.

Bobby also makes Buck write his sister to tell her he's somewhere safe. The fear of telling Maddie he's an 8th grade drop out is what makes him decide to go back after all--though technically he's a tenth grader now.

* * *

It seems so odd how every time his life changes it's because of a person he meets, how the world of difference comes from seemingly insignificant moments, from people whose lives are like perpendicular lines to his. Colliding and altering and disappearing--except the 118, who changed his life and stayed.

He meets Eddie on a Thursday, and knows his life has just changed again, and hopes that Eddie isn't a perpendicular line like Eva, but a lifeline like Bobby.

Only time would tell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a flashback with Old Lincoln, the bad trick. Not pretty.

Eddie, it turns out, had been a star athlete in El Paso. He'd gotten a girl pregnant and they'd had plans to raise the baby together, but then Shannon--the girl--her mother had gotten sick and she'd had to make a choice. She chose to take care of her parent and Eddie's parents, in turn, had insisted if he wasn't going to marry her then he couldn't keep the baby. He'd taken the baby and his truck and run to his grandmother--here. He knows about family that doesn't support you or love you how you need them to. Buck thinks about telling him, but he only ever gets as far as "Bobby is my foster dad, actually." Later, he wishes he'd been able to do it differently, but the street concert takes that option from him.

* * *

Eddie gives his shoulder a playful shove and habit has buck moving with it to decrease the impact. The slight rotation is the only reason he sees him. He grabs the back of Eddie's shirt and pulls him away. "Eddie, we have to go." There's a note of hysteria in his voice he can't help.

"What? Why?"

" _Eddie we have to go!"_

"Well, well. Buck. Need some extra cash?" His gaze flicks between Buck and Eddie, making their skin crawl.

"We're just leaving." He says in a rush and walks away, still tugging at Eddie. He ducks around a corner and folds in half, trying to catch his breath.

He can't, can't get a single lung full because--

_the kicks dig into his ribs in a way Brandt had never managed and he gasps with the pain, can't catch enough air to stop panting. He rises to his feet just to meet with a punishing backhand. His head bounces off the table with a dull, sickening, thud._

"Buck!"

_Old Lincoln lifts him to his feet and his lips are nearly pulled into a snarl. With one hand in his collar he slams Buck against the wall and his head bounces off. He drops and Old Lincoln catches him by his wrist. It twists as he goes down. There's a snap and pain like fire and then nothing until he wakes._

"Buck, should I call Bobby? Buck!" Finally Buck realizes Eddie is there, looking at him, and he meets the gaze.

"I know him." He says listlessly. "I knew him before I met Bobby. We called him Old Lincoln." He doesn't continue.

* * *

At a loss for any other way to help, Eddie calls Bobby. He relays what Buck told him and Bobby curses and says he'll be right there and don't move and don't let that man near Buck. As if he had to tell him that part. As if Eddie could witness his brave best friend experiencing a panic attack and let the cause of it get close when he'd already failed him once today.

"It's common knowledge that Old Lincoln is...unpredictable. But I was desperate. It's how I met Bobby. When I woke up, the 118 responded." Eddie doesn't understand what Buck is saying. There's a piece of the story he's missing, a truth that's threaded through and he can't follow this story without it, but he's not about to demand answers, either. Bobby gets there and Eddie knows that if he was looking at his kid in this situation--and may the Devil not hear him say so--he'd pull him straight into a hug. But Bobby approaches Buck like he's a wounded coyote. Slow, calm, non-threatening. Voice low and slow, hands open and at his sides. He sees the way Buck still flinches before he seems to register what it means that it's Bobby. He doesn't fall into his chest, though it looks like he wants to but he fists his hands into Bobby's jacket.

"He approached us. He wanted...he said..."

"He asked Buck if he needed some extra cash." Eddie continues when it seems that Buck won't be able to. Bobby pales and Eddie knows he's missing something huge. Bobby pulls back from Buck enough to make eye contact with him. 

"The hospital has the file. Athena could find him. We could still send him to prison." But he doesn't sound certain and Buck's definitely not--because it all comes down to whether a runaway underage hooker is sympathetic to a jury.

"Eddie, one of us will call you later."

"No." Buck says. "He should know."

"Buck, it's the past."

"It's the _truth._ I trust him. He should know."

"Okay," Bobby acquiesces. "Let's go home, then. Eddie," he extends an arm welcoming Eddie physically as much as metaphorically, "we can all talk there."

* * *

He doesn't want to cry in front of Buck. What right does he have, when it is Buck who lived it? His hands turn to fists when he hears about Brandt, one fist presses against a sob when he describes the desperation that drove him to go with Old Lincoln--even though everybody he walked past on the way to the passenger door tried to stop him, even though Old Lincoln is everyone's bad trick story, even though Buck is not the first to be hospitalized after climbing into that Towncar. He'd done it because he'd had no other choice and Eddie _will not cry_ in front of Buck. Buck had to be so strong as to bear it, Eddie will be strong enough to hear it.

"I understand if you've changed your mind about me meeting Chris-"

"Why?" Eddie questions, genuinely upset that Buck would ever think that. "Because you're a survivor? Because you know that choices have consequences nobody could foresee and your intentions don't matter, but rather the outcome? Because you were cold and hungry and desperate and adults preyed on you? Why would I change my mind about you meeting Chris?"

Bucks offers an honest smile, his first since Bobby arrived and the firefighter tells himself he'll repay Eddie for that someday, though he has no idea how he might.

"And also I--I think you should try to press charges. Even if nothing comes of it, you've told yourself that what happened wasn't okay. That matters."

He's right. 


End file.
